A Conflict of Interests
by nevthebunny
Summary: Santana Lopez has no one to miss her but Kurt Hummel does. When they are selected in the reaping she decides to save him but when the girl from District 8 catches her eye she finds herself with a conflict of interests. Brittana, Klaine, Kurtana friendship
1. Prologue

**A/N Just to warn you now there won't be a regular update schedule for this. It will be about six chapters and I aim to get the next of those up in the next week but since I'm a year 11 with far too much work, no promises. Enjoy and remember to review!**

Prologue

She's used to this. Every year the entire district's teenage population comes out of their ramshackle houses and stands, dolled up, in this courtyard. They call it 'the Reaping'. This is her sixth year, though probably not her last, and she stands there with her usually free-flowing hair cruelly imprisoned in a tight plait down her back.

Honestly, Santana often wonders if her name is even in those reaping balls. She has no family; almost her entire life has been lived alone. She knows no one except those she trades with to stay alive. There are no friends, no special someone. No one even glances her way among the waiting masses, let alone watch her worriedly.

That Capitol idiot, Effie Trinket, makes her way to the stage with her hair striped oddly red and white. Santana is reminded of the ancient children's book 'Where's Wally' that her history teacher once showed her.

Effie reels off the whole spiel about the rebels and the reaping; it isn't anything that a soul there hasn't heard a million times before and then she plunges her hand into the bowl for female tributes with a cheery, 'May the odds be ever in your favour.'

Yet when Effie reads out the two words that no girl wants to hear: their own name, Santana seems unaffected. The chances were always there after all, it is no shock, and she thinks it's actually better this way. She has the best prospects of all the potential tributes in the district due to her hunting skills and it isn't like she has anyone to miss her.

A collective sigh envelopes the courtyard as she plods confidently up to the stage, confirming her thoughts. It is only once she reaches the stage that she allows herself to survey her potential opponents. Many of them are halfway between relief that their girlfriends are safe and agonising fears for themselves.

Santana can pick out hulk-like Finn Hudson who looks close to tears and his girlfriend Rachel Berry on the other side, already bawling. Then there's elegant Mike Chang, balling his fists with tension and little Artie Abrams, who Santana prays will not be picked, not because she has a liking for him but because he won't last three seconds in the Games in that wheelchair.

Finally, Effie dispels the suspense by plucking out a name and reading it aloud.

Kurt Hummel is eighteen years old and the only way he can really be described is delicate. What little colour he has drains from his face. Finn and Rachel are sobbing now; they may be free but Kurt is Finn's brother. Santana can see his father shouting angrily and cursing the Capitol. They have a close bond, Burt and Kurt, ever since the death of Mrs Hummel.

The greatest tragedy to the scene, however, is the expression on Blaine Anderson's face. It is pure anguish. No one else looks at Kurt's 'best friend' except Santana and suddenly she can see what no one else does.

Blaine screams Kurt's name over and over and Kurt locks gazes with his _boyfriend_. At first, Santana wonders why Blaine doesn't come crashing forwards to volunteer, after all, he seems like that type. Then she notices that Blaine stands behind the line separating adults and teens. He is nineteen years old and therefore too old to compete in the Hunger Games.

It is obvious from the uproar that Kurt will be sorely missed. There is no way he will be able to win, with his slender frame and evident diffidence. There is nothing that Blaine or Burt can do to save him. But Santana can. From the second his feet hit the platform, Santana Lopez resolves to do everything within her power to ensure that Kurt Hummel wins the 71st Hunger Games.


	2. Chapter 1: Alliances

**A/N Here's chapter one. Chapter Two won't be up for a while since I have more to write and am now back at school. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the Hunger Games.**

Chapter One: Alliances

The next week flashes past in a blur. There are stylists and parades in stupid outfits but Santana barely even notices. It's when they get to training that she's intrigued. Haymitch, her mentor, agrees that she shouldn't show any of her skills until she gets into the arena, not even to Kurt, but she's interested in watching the others and what they will do. She likes to watch people.

It seems that this year alliances have been formed early. There is not one but two Career packs: Districts One and Four in one and District Two and the boy from eight in the other, which is rather unexpected. Santana looks over to the girl for eight to see how she's taking the estrangement from her district partner but the happy blonde doesn't seem to care that he will kill her the second they reach the arena.

Kurt, it appears, is very handy at two things in training, to Santana's surprise: camouflage and knots. He might turn out to be a little less helpless than she had thought.

They have actually barely spoken to each other before now and Santana has defined herself as quite abrasive in the little time they have known each other so it isn't surprising that Kurt looks shocked and a little terrified when she attempts to make conversation with him.

"You're quite good at that," she comments, gesturing to the neat knot in his hand.

He stutters something unintelligible.

She lowers her voice and hisses urgently, "Listen, I've got a plan, okay? We're going to be allies. You are going to stick by my side every second we are in that arena. You got it?"

Kurt appears to be sizing her up, looking for some reason that she would suddenly want to ally herself with him. He has no idea of the level of her sincerity but knows he has nothing to lose since he has been resigned to his death ever since he was forcefully removed from Blaine's arms.

He nods nervously. "Okay," he stammers.

Santana is very tempted to go back on the idea or even to just roll her eyes. What on earth his adoring family see in him she has no clue. For now, all she can see is a weak, gibbering mess. It doesn't matter how handy he is with knots, she thinks, this is going to be even more difficult than I thought.

* * *

><p>"Santana," Haymitch, her mostly drunk mentor, corners her seconds before she is due to go for her private training session. "Have you decided what tactics you're playing to yet? You could go far in these Games with that attitude."<p>

Santana shakes her head. "No," she says. "That isn't my goal. It's him that needs to go far."

Haymitch looks surprised. "The Hummel kid, sweetheart? There isn't a chance in hell that he's coming out of there."

"There is if we fight for him," Santana counters. "You have to promise me you'll help me."

When Haymitch doesn't reply she adds, "If you don't you'll be abandoning us both. I'm not going to win, Haymitch. I don't want to. But Kurt Hummel damn well does and he damn well will if I have anything to say about it."

She hopes she's left the hopeless alcoholic with something to think about.

* * *

><p>When the scores come in, Santana is pleased. The careers are averaging an 8 or 9 and Kurt manages to scrape a five. Her own result causes a horrified gasp from Effie, a worried look from Kurt and a nod from Haymitch. Santana Lopez, easily the most capable competitor in the Games, has scored a grand total of two.<p>

He manages to stay quiet in public, as usual, but as soon as they are alone Kurt voices his concern.

"Santana," he mutters. "You did that on purpose, right? The training score?"

Santana can't help but smile at him, hell maybe she's starting to like the kid. He's actually quite a nice guy; he has potential, definitely.

Nodding in a way she hopes is reassuring, she replies, "Don't you worry, Porcelain. I've got everything under control."

Kurt seems satisfied with her response and a little less wary than in their previous conversations. Perhaps he's warming to her too.

* * *

><p>In terms of her strategy, this is the most dangerous part of the games. She's going to have to act the hell out of this so that the attentive Capitol audience believe her. Kurt better not say something stupid either or she'll have far too much work ahead of her. Yet Santana's turn comes first; she will have to rely on Kurt to pick up the pieces. She is quite honestly terrified to face that crowd knowing that one wrong move will sign Kurt's death warrant, and her own, of course.<p>

Caesar introduces her excitedly; having spoken to her he believes that she is a real contender, despite her training score.

"So, Santana, tell us. Was that training score part of your strategy?"

He's a real idiot if he thinks that she's going to reveal that. Looking up at her judging audience, the Capitol folk who don't know what they do in sending mere children to what is essentially a war, she takes a deep breath. The trembling is authentic, which helps.

"I... I don't know what you mean," she stutters.

To his credit, Caesar takes her change in demeanour in his stride. "Okay then. Have you formed any alliances yet?"

Santana nods timidly. "K-Kurt."

It is difficult for the host to continue seeing her potential when allied with someone as meek as Kurt.

"Have you got a plan?"

She shakes her head in an attempt to look afraid.

Thankfully he decides that delving deeper will get him nowhere. The sympathy vote could get her some sponsors so he tries it out.

"Well, Santana. Tell us about life in District Twelve. What are your friend's names?"

"I don't have any friends..."

"Come now, Santana. An attractive girl like you, do you not have a boyfriend? What about that young man behind the adult line who tried to volunteer?"

Again, Santana shakes her head. "No one's going to miss me," she says. At least that's truthful.

The Capitol audience appears bored with her. They are getting restless. All the usual betters have left and Santana is sure even the tributes will have written her off by now. Caesar gives up.

"Well... May the odds be ever in your favour. Santana Lopez, District Twelve, everyone!"

She isn't entirely sure how believable she has been so she prays for Kurt to be more convincing. Luckily he is. Rolling her eyes, she realises she shouldn't be surprised. Whilst his survival ability is nil, Kurt knows how to convince a crowd. From the second Caesar introduces him the crowd are eating out of his hand.

"So, Kurt," the host begins, this year with hair a shade of red to rival the old fast-food chain mascot Ronald McDonald's. "Have you got a grand plan to survive the arena?"

Santana truly believes in this moment that if necessary Kurt could pretend to be tough or mysterious and confident; something that would get sponsors but lose the element of surprise. Honestly, she's a little worried he will. Yet Kurt Hummel isn't stupid, another thing to add to her list of his strengths, he knows that if he does that she's dead and if she's dead, so is he. So, just as she told him to, he pretends to be terrified.

"No, Caesar," he stutters.

Caesar is a little taken aback; he clearly doesn't expect more genuine fear like this to have made it past Effie.

"Santana tells me you two have formed an alliance. Now, she wouldn't tell me if you've got a plan but I'm sure you have..."

Kurt shakes his head, ""N-No. We're trying to make one n-now, I think..." he stutters far more convincingly.

It is obvious that Caesar is lost for words. Kurt is giving him absolutely nothing he can sell to sponsors. The picture of a timid boy from Twelve, allied with an even more terrible girl who may have got the lowest score in the history of the games is just not appealing to them; they don't even have a plan! Quickly the host changes the subject.

"Have you got anyone at home, Kurt? Parents? Friends? Someone special?"

Kurt nods again. "There's my dad and my stepmum, Carole. I've got a stepbrother, Finn, too."

This part is where he will gain the audience's sympathy, tug at their heartstrings. However, Kurt seems to have fallen into his own trap. His eyes are looking a little watery and that weak boy Santana met seems to be making a reappearance.

"I've got friends at home, too..."

Caesar presses further: he wants to know if Kurt has a girlfriend.

Kurt looks around himself, a little unsure. Obviously he can't out Blaine. Whilst the Capitol may accept it, Blaine would be ostracised in District Twelve with their traditional ways whether Kurt returns or not. He decides to answer Caesar's previous question.

"I... I don't. But I have Blaine, my best friend. He's very special to me."

And the crowd love it. It may not be a tragic love story, or so they think, but there is something equally tragic about separating childhood friends.

Now Kurt has played his part and played it well. Caesar sends him away with another "May the odds be ever in your favour."

By the time Kurt makes it backstage all of the other tributes, mentors and their teams have disappeared except Santana and the rest of their prep team. He actually looks exceptionally calm despite everything.

"Do you think it worked?" Kurt asks quietly.

Santana prays with all her heart that it did; she has given Kurt hope of going home now.

She nods. "Yes. I think so."

However, Kurt does not seem happy. She looks at him, daring him to tell her why.

"I don't want that to be the way Blaine last sees me."

"It won't be," she promises.

Yet Kurt is much more realistic. "It could be," he corrects, "but we hope not."

Once he has walked away, Haymitch approaches her.

"I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing, sweetheart," he hisses. "You either just saved his life or killed him. We'll have to see."

* * *

><p>It's the night before they go into the arena and Santana is terrified. She hasn't had a chance to contemplate the certainty of her death before. The 'safety' of the Capitol is suffocating her. She needs to get outside, preferably to some woods though she knows she'll be seeing enough of those soon.<p>

Running along the corridor she finds access to the roof. Leaning against the hatch, she mutters a new mantra to herself firmly.

"I will be dead within two weeks. These are my last days on earth."

Taking a deep breath she pulls open the hatch and makes her way to the roof. Fresh air, stars, it will be almost like home, she reasons.

She is taken aback by the sight that reaches her. Fellow tribute Kurt Hummel is leaning on a rusty railing, crying. Noticing her presence, he quickly wipes his eyes.

Without looking up he asks, "Do you think that's all we'll be after tomorrow?" he asks her.

It takes her a moment to understand what he means before she sees that the railing is covered with tiny etchings of past tributes. The newest of these is just under Kurt's hand and reads '_Kurt Hummel, District Twelve, 71__st_'

She remains silent, knowing that if she speaks the tears that threaten her will make an appearance. The two unlikely allies stand in silence for a moment until Kurt speaks.

"I don't know what to make of you, Santana. You could have whatever you wanted in these games, I'm sure of it. You forget I knew you back home. You practically lived in the woods. I may be 'delicate' but I'm not stupid. I'll go along with this."

She thinks this is the last of what he feels he has to say until he unexpectedly turns to face her, expression unreadable.

"But we were never friends, Santana," he says harshly. "I just want to know why you're doing this."

Perhaps this is why she is here; overly nosy people bring out her more violent side and that's just what Kurt is being: overly nosy. Can he not just accept her alliance? Then again, she supposes, this is exactly what she would do if she was in his shoes.

"You don't trust me," she says. If anyone had ever gotten to know her, they would know that this was her dangerous tone.

Kurt shakes his head. "I don't have any reason to. Tomorrow we're going to fight to the death." Even this hidden confident Kurt seems worried about that.

"Exactly," she confirms. "You don't trust me. Smart boy. But know this: whatever interests I have, we are allies and that means I won't hurt you."

"Until it is necessary," Kurt calls quietly after her.

She wheels around. "Of course," she lies before storming out of there like the independent fighter she is.


	3. Chapter 2: The Games

**A/N So so sorry it's been so long. I've had a crazy month and I almost forgot to post this chapter. The next one is mostly written but I can't promise when it'll be up. Next time we'll get to see Blaine's point of view back home but for now we're still in the games. I like reviews *hint*.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or Glee. **

Chapter Two: The Games

Before she knows it, Santana is in her lone tube, the arena spread out in front of her. To her left a rushing river runs towards her and on the far side of the Cornucopia lies a wood, lined with a vast rocky mountain to her right. She looks around, craning her neck to find Kurt. Realisation hits: she cannot see him so he must be on the other side of the Cornucopia. Santana curses the Gamemakers; they clearly aren't going to make her task easy.

Praying that Kurt remembers the plan, the tribute steels herself, focusing on her target: the centre of the Cornucopia.

"3...2...1" The gong sounds and Santana darts with the speed of a cheetah straight into the middle, leaving the other tributes lagging behind in surprise.

Screw the interviews, this is the most dangerous part of the games. Santana remembers a statistic she was once told: only half of the tributes will make it away from the Cornucopia. Ignoring her thoughts she scoops a pack onto her back in one fluid motion whilst taking a coveted bow with the other, leaving the arrows. The others have recovered from their shock now and are rapidly catching her up; some have weapons. From the noises Santana can hear she knows tributes are already dying.

It is all she can do to ignore her twitching hands that want to go back, take the arrows and shoot down everyone that threatens her but she knows she can't. That would be suicide. It's all she can do to keep her head down and keep running.

She is on the other side of the Cornucopia now. There's Kurt and he seems to be picking up a pair of tiny penknives. Idiot! That wasn't part of the plan.

Suddenly the girl from District 10 appears in Santana's line of vision. She is creeping up behind Kurt, aiming her javelin. Clearly she wants to get some glory before her inevitable end and thinks the weak link of District Twelve is the way to go about it.

The wind is knocked out of Kurt as Santana slams him to the floor and the javelin flies over his head. On reflex, one penknife makes it halfway to her neck but Kurt's shaking hands do not allow it any further before he realises who she is.

Quickly she wrenches the penknife from his hand and drags him upright.

"The mountain. Go!" she hisses into his ear.

Needing no second order he runs like a frightened rabbit in the direction of the mountain side of the wood.

Following him she pauses to throw the penknife with deadly accuracy at the one witness to her physical prowess. The girl from Ten falls but Santana can't seem to regret it.

And they keep running. They run and run until Kurt tires and falls to the ground. Santana merely transfers their pack onto his back and him onto hers and trudges onwards. When he questions this strategy Santana explains it to him.

The Careers are bound to go for the easiest positions near the river and near to the Cornucopia. Other tributes will enter the woods but stick to the place they know they can find water. No one will look for them in the shelter of the trees, backed against barren rocks.

"Will they even be able to find our corpses?" Kurt jibes.

Whilst she ignores his comment, she has been worried. Luck has not been on their side so far so it is good when she discovers it now is. Ten minutes after Kurt's energy fails they approach the tiniest of streams snaking out from a cave which in turn is shielded by the trees. The stream is not big enough for anyone to notice it and seek its source and the cave is easily defendable. They have found their camp.

* * *

><p>It is not long later that Santana hears the anthem and ducks surreptitiously from their well-concealed hideout to watch the sky. Kurt is inside the cave, whittling arrows for her from tree branches: another hidden talent. Scarily in keeping with statistics, exactly twelve people have been killed on the first day. Only one is from one of the Career alliances: the girl from District Four and this list gives Santana no clue whether there is anyone around in the immediate vicinity.<p>

"Right," she says on returning to Kurt, business-like. "Here's how we'll do things. One will sleep, the other keep watch just inside the mouth, just in case. Got it?"

Kurt nods. Santana knows they must be performing for an audience right now; she has finally revealed her true self.

"I'll take first watch. You: sleep. Now."

* * *

><p>Kurt and Santana quickly settle into a routine: Kurt replaces the camouflage and makes more arrows whilst Santana hunts and then upon her return deals with cooking the meat under the cover of the cave. At night they take turns sleeping and keeping watch. It is a waiting game for them really; they will not seek out competition and no one comes across their area, perhaps it is too far from the Cornucopia.<p>

The first bit of excitement doesn't occur until Day Four when Santana goes out to hunt. The number of tributes has begun to dwindle, though they are still not on the Careers' hit list yet. Clearly they believe that Kurt and Santana are starving to death somewhere and won't last much longer. At any rate they aren't worth hunting down yet.

Stealthily Santana tracks her prey through the trees. She is in her element here. Reflexes sharp as lightning she has shot her kill; it is only a small creature but should feed both of them for the day.

However, as she begins to slink back to camp she can discern another creature slithering around in the undergrowth not far away. Knowing that the likelihood is that it is a Capitol muttation or another tribute Santana readies an arrow. She should have the element of surprise.

Through the bushes she sees an impressive crop of blonde hair; it is the happy girl from eight. She seemed like such a nice, innocent person but Santana knows all too well how easily that can be faked. The girl must have some skill to have made it this far in the competition. A simple arrow through the heart should take her out before she has a chance to scream. No one will be the wiser.

Yet before Santana can bring herself to strike she sees that the girl is injured. A great gash in her leg needs some medical attention. Plus she has seen Santana's bow.

"Please don't hurt me."

It isn't a plea. Nor is it terrified or desperate. It is almost as if the girl is asking for a favour. This piques Santana's interest.

"I can't hurt you, please," the girl continues.

By some miracle the girl has captured Santana's attention. The Capitol will be watching.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Brittany," the girl replies. "My allies are gone. No one has followed me," she states, knowing that these are the factors Santana is weighing up.

Kurt is outraged when she returns from the hunt bearing not only dinner but also an injured tribute.

* * *

><p>They are quick to discover that Brittany is indeed quite a bubbly person; even the Games haven't had a major impact on this aspect of her personality. Her optimism meshes well with Kurt's realism and Santana's harsher side.<p>

When stuck in an endless fight to the death with nothing to do but hide out they get to know each other quite quickly. As it turns out, Brittany was in an alliance with another blonde by the name of Quinn from District Seven.

"I lost her," Brit says. "And then the Careers found me. She might still be out there, right?"

She looks so hopeful, so convinced that Santana cannot bring herself to break the bubble.

"Sure," she agrees.

Yet watching the sky later that evening Santana discovers there was only one death that day: a blonde female from Seven. She has to tell her new friend.

She will say this for Brittany; she doesn't go into denial. She nods to show that she understands before bursting into tears with no attempt to hold them back.

Santana, the ice maiden, feels her heart breaking as she pulls the girl closer and she sobs into her shoulder. Her immediate instinct is to protect her.

It isn't until Brittany falls asleep that Santana realises how problematic her situation has become.

"I should've left her to die," she berates herself. For now she is going to have to choose between Brittany and Kurt: they can't both survive.

As she watches Brittany sleep she realises she won't be able to kill her; she has reached a conflict of her interests.

From the shadows Kurt responds to her quietly uttered statement.

"We both know you can't do that," he tells her sadly. "You love her, Santana. I can tell as easily as I can tell that Effie bleaches her hair."

He doesn't stop to let her digest that before his mouth begins to tremble.

"Just... just kill me quickly, Santana, when the time comes. You'll promise me that, won't you?"

She is reminded that Kurt Hummel has a family. She thinks of Burt, Carole and Finn. She thinks of Blaine. Then she thinks of Brittany's adorable smile and her infectious optimism. She loves Brittany? Maybe she does. Santana Lopez has never known any kind of love before now.

But Kurt... She can't just abandon him. Not only does he have a family, he is a good man: willing to sacrifice himself for her love and besides, she promised herself.

Kurt waits for her promise. She cannot give it.


	4. Interlude: Back Home

**A/N Okay guys. I'm officially going on hiatus for the first time ever with this fic because I've got writer's block with the next chapter and I want to focus on my exams for a bit. Ultimately I plan to be back in July which I know seems forever away, sorry. Anyway, please enjoy this offering of Blaine's POV.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or Glee. **

Interlude: Back Home.

Effie says that name and Blaine's world ends. He can vaguely tell that he is yelling and pushing at the barrier. Kurt is ripped away from him when they've barely had a chance to say goodbye. He can't give him a proper goodbye anyway what with the guards watching.

Blaine also vaguely remembers watching his boyfriend through that distant Capitol camera parading around in some terrible miner's outfit. Kurt must've hated it; Blaine can just hear him complaining and it almost makes him smile. Then he remembers.

It feels like the extended Hummel-Hudson-Anderson clan cannot move from their seats in front of the television. They do, of course: Finn and Burt work in the mines, Rachel has been attempting to raise sponsorship money from the little District Twelve has. She has raised quite an amount actually; District Twelve loved Kurt. Love. Love, present tense, Blaine reprimands himself.

It is a comfort to know that even when they lose Kurt- if, IF- Blaine will still have the Hummels. His own family aren't Seam, they are merchants like Kurt's mother was but they despise anyone from that side of town. He and his father certainly don't share the same views.

From the few glimpses he gets of Kurt, Blaine can't work out how he's feeling. Never mind the imminent fighting to the death, the separation is already too much for the young man. He just has to concentrate on taking one day at a time.

That is why he is sitting on the floor in the Hummel-Hudson front room, Burt and Carole behind him on the worn sofa and Finn and Rachel squashed into an armchair across the room. The training scores are in.

"Any idea what strategy Kurt's gonna play to?" Finn asks the room.

"Well," says Rachel in her I-know-everything manner. "It would be smart for him to form an alliance with someone stronger..."

Before Rachel can finish telling them why this would be she is shushed by the scores for District One being announced. It is torture for the Hummel-Hudson-Andersons as they wait through twenty further scores. Finally District Twelve is announced.

"Kurt Hummel..." Blaine's heart jumps as he hears the name.

"Five!"

Suddenly everyone is standing, hugging and celebrating. Anywhere else it wouldn't be much but here in this District Twelve household five is an excellent score. They are once more interrupted, however, by the announcement of the final score.

"Two!"

Blaine stares at the TV, sure he must have heard wrong.

"That doesn't sound like Santana," Finn frowns.

"I was hoping they'd form an alliance," Burt says quietly. "Twelve can only ever trust Twelve in these games. I hope he's got someone else in mind."

Blaine nods numbly. The idea of alliances brings back what is happening and he cannot believe they were just celebrating. Kurt doesn't stand a chance.

Days have passed, or maybe no time at all, when it comes to the interviews and Blaine finally gets to see Kurt's face again.

'This could be the last you see of him,' a little voice in his head says.

'Shut up!' says another.

Both voices are interrupted by Finn. "Look! There he is!"

Poor Blaine is instantly worried by his boyfriend's appearance. Are they feeding him? He looks thin as ever and nervous. Nervous! Kurt doesn't do nervous. What has he seen to scare him so much? Has someone threatened him?

Blaine just wants to find that person and rip them limb from limb until he realizes they are miles away in the Capitol and actually that is the point. Someone will quite possibly rip whoever's responsible limb from limb and Kurt too...

The tributes stand in a semicircle around the stage and Kurt is on the end. He will go last. Finally Caesar reaches the tributes from District Twelve. Santana is visibly shaking.

"What happened to her?" Finn demands. "She looks as scared as..."

He doesn't have to finish his sentence: they all know what he's thinking.

"So, Santana, tell us. Was that training score part of your strategy?"

Blaine can't believe he hasn't thought of this possibility. Finn is now going on about how that would make sense with what he knows of Santana. In actual fact, though, none of them really know a thing about her.

"I... I don't know what you mean."

"That kid is either a really good actress or she's genuinely terrified," Burt observes.

"Let's hope for the first one," Carole attempts to console.

Then Blaine finally sees it. He's done some acting himself in his time; it's part of being a teacher. There is a glint in Santana's eyes, just an edge. It shows that she's manipulating her every move to suit her purposes. She's dangerous.

Looking at Kurt in the background, Blaine can see that Kurt has also worked this out. He keeps one eye on her and one on the crowd whilst still appearing terrified and that makes his boyfriend's heart swell with pride.

"Okay then. Have you formed any alliances yet?"

"K-Kurt."

The room is in uproar. Burt rises to his feet yelling "No!" Finn swears. Rachel starts to cry. Blaine just sits there quietly, watching.

They almost miss Caesar's next words.

"Have you got a plan?"

As she shakes her head Blaine says quietly, "She has."

It seems the others have almost forgotten he's there.

"How can you tell?" Rachel asks.

"Her eyes," he says simply. They don't press further.

"Well, Santana. Tell us about life in District Twelve. What are your friend's names?"

Finn snorts derisively. Carole tells him to behave; it isn't nice to be mean to people who are going to die.

"I don't have any friends..."

"Come now, Santana. An attractive girl like you, do you not have a boyfriend? What about that young man behind the adult line who tried to volunteer?"

That's him, Blaine realises. They think he is the boyfriend of the tribute from District Twelve. They aren't wrong. Panic hits him. What if they ask Kurt about him? What will Kurt say? What does he want Kurt to say?

Caesar is finished with Santana now.

"This is it," whispers Rachel obnoxiously.

Kurt looks even more drawn and worried in a close-up but Blaine can see the same steely edge in his eyes as he saw in Santana's. It is probably only because he knows him so well though; the Capitol audience don't seem to see it and nor do the Hummel-Hudsons.

"Oh, I hope he's eating," frets Carole.

Blaine just looks at her incredulously. That is the least of their worries right now.

"So, Kurt, have you got a grand plan to survive the arena?"

Everyone waits, tense, to see what Kurt will say.

"No, Caesar."

An almost relieved breath is expelled from Blaine's throat.

"Come on, Kurt!" exclaims Burt. "What have they done to you? Show them your heart!"

"Santana tells me you two have formed an alliance. Now, she wouldn't tell me if you've got a plan but I'm sure you have."

"Please tell me she was lying, Kurt," Burt begs.

"She had to have been lying, right?" Finn demands.

"N-No. We're trying to make one n-now, I think..."

This is confirmation of the alliance. Rachel's tears flow freely now as Finn pulls her close to him, failing to conceal his own concern. Burt clutches Carole's hand so hard it turns white. Blaine is finding it harder to deal with the reactions of his family than what is actually happening on the screen; he pulls his legs into his chest.

"Have you got anyone at home, Kurt? Parents? Friends? Someone special?"

"Yes," Burt whispers. "Yes, of course."

"There's my dad and my stepmum, Carole. I've got a stepbrother, Finn, too."

This has become a family moment; Blaine almost feels as though he's intruded as the Hummel-Hudsons huddle closer together and he is left marooned on the floor.

The young man sees the tears in Kurt's eyes. 'Courage, Kurt,' he wills him silently.

"I've got friends at home, too."

Blaine attempts a weak smile. This is Kurt's way of acknowledging him.

"A girlfriend?" Caesar asks.

In that moment, Blaine honestly doesn't care if Kurt outs him. He just wants to be recognized in front of this huge audience as someone that matters to the tribute.

Kurt looks directly into the camera now; he talks to him without saying a word. The look speaks of love, pure love, and a determination.

"I... I don't. But I have Blaine, my best friend. He's very special to me."

The last words are not for the crowd and Blaine feels transported away from the crowd to a place where he and Kurt can be alone. Those words are for Blaine only. They acknowledge him. They encourage him.

"I love you, too," Blaine says sadly.

Mr Hummel's attention turns to Blaine and he nods poignantly. No one knows quite what to say but before they know it Kurt is whisked from the screen. The broadcast is over.

* * *

><p>No one around the screen in the Hummel-Hudson house can bear to look at each other. Rachel the ever-prepared has brought tissues which are a real encouragement. Blaine doesn't want to be there but at the same time he can't stay away.<p>

All too quickly, the screen flickers to life. Stupidly Blaine's first thought turns to this year's outfits. They are highly unattractive and all he can think is how much Kurt will hate that this is the outfit he will die in. No, he reprimands himself, Kurt will come home.

Blaine scans the circle of tributes, surveying the arena as though he is a tribute. Kurt's position is enviable; almost within cover of the trees and Blaine thanks whatever deity is out there and prays and prays that Kurt will be smart.

All of a sudden the action has begun. Tributes are falling right, left and centre. The camera doesn't show the one person he wants to see.

Yet it does show Santana. She is fast and before anyone knows it is in the middle of the Cornucopia.

Finn whoops a triumphant, "I told you so!"

Rachel has finally stopped crying. She merely sits there shocked as Mr Hummel takes up where she left off, sobbing great ugly sobs.

"She's got a bow! She's got a bow!" Finn shouts as though they cannot see.

And there he is. There is Kurt. What is he doing? Blaine can't look any more. His knees are a much safer sight than the bloodbath.

"No! No, Kurt! Watch out!" It's Carole yelling which is odd. His head snaps up to see a girl aiming her javelin straight for the unsuspecting Kurt.

"Please, please, please," he murmurs.

As if answering him, Santana vaults over a dead tribute and pins Kurt to the floor.

He isn't entirely sure who is on their feet first until they all are yelling and screaming.

"Go Santana!"

"Please, please, please!"

"I knew it!"

"Run, Kurt, run!"

And then Kurt in running and Santana has a knife and everything is happening so quickly. The aggressor falls and everyone falls silent in shock.

"She means business," Blaine says.

No one says it but they have all realised that Kurt may be in more danger as her ally than her enemy.

Now that they are away from the Cornucopia the family can breathe more easily. They fall into a system over the next few hours with one person's eyes glued to the screen at any one time.

It is Finn's turn when Kurt finally fails from exhaustion.

"He's down!" he yells, unthinkingly.

Burt and Blaine burst into the room at the exact same second, looks of anguish on their faces.

Finn looks sheepish at his mistake. "I meant he fell over. He's okay," he hastily amends.

The three of them watch with tension as Santana slings him onto her back with surprising strength.

Then they finally hear the voice, the voice of the Kurt they know.

"Will they even be able to find our corpses?" His sarcasm shines through.

It isn't funny. It isn't funny at all so why are they laughing? Why can't they stop laughing? Because it's so wonderfully Kurt and there may not be much more of that left.

* * *

><p>Blaine feels as though he hasn't left the Hummel-Hudson sitting room but somewhere in his consciousness he knows he's been to work, as have Burt and Finn. Carole has been cooking so only Rachel has been left to dutifully watch Kurt. She's almost scraped enough together to send a traditional offering from Twelve to Kurt; bread is a tradition. It will let him know they're all behind him.<p>

The baker, Mr Mellark, is a stingy man, though, or rather his wife will not allow him to bake it for a reduced price but Rachel has her secret weapon: Peeta Mellark, his twelve-year-old son, who is possibly the sweetest kid that Blaine has had the privilege of teaching; hopefully he won't ever have to suffer through the destruction the Games bring.

It happens on the fourth day while Blaine is at work. As soon as he gets home, Rachel and Carole ambush him.

"Bubbly-tribute-from-eight-alliance-Kurt-Santana," is all Blaine catches from Rachel before Kurt's stepmother tells him what has transpired.

This should be a good thing until Blaine catches a glimpse of the screen and sees the gleam in Santana's eyes as she looks at the newcomer. He recognises it. He has seen it before in a pair of blue orbs shining up at him and suddenly he feels sick. Kurt is the odd one out in the alliance. The odd one is always the first to die.

Later Finn and Burt join them. Miles away Brittany has just fallen asleep.

"I should've left her to die," Santana is saying and the young observer can't help but agree.

Suddenly he hears Kurt's voice, ever reasonable. "We both know you can't do that. You love her, Santana. I can tell as easily as I can tell that Effie bleaches her hair."

A smile attempts to play at Blaine's lips but is stopped by wonderful Kurt's next comment.

"Just kill me quickly, Santana, when the time comes. You'll promise me that, won't you?"

And abruptly Blaine, with his knees pulled into his chest to keep the feelings in, cannot keep control any longer. Kurt is calmly begging for a quick death and that is too much, dammit, too much!

He sprints outside and cannot even make it as far as his own house before breaking down on the floor, sobbing.


	5. Chapter 3: The End

**A/N Hi guys! Surprise! Thank you so much for all the reviews, alerts and faves that suddenly started coming in. They honestly got me through the block for this chapter and made me post it three months before I intended to! I can't say when the next one will be up but like I said before, July at the latest. As suggested by whats. her. bucket., I have tried to add more Brittana scenes to make their relationship more believable, thanks for that. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or Glee. **

Chapter 3: The End

"Thank you, San," Brittany smiles as Santana passes her the first piece of roasted prey.

Santana can't help but smile back. She has come to live for these moments they get when Kurt is on watch. She has noticed that despite his uneasiness about their closeness, he has given them far more time than the rota would suggest just to be together.

Santana has never had anything to live for before; plenty not to die for but never anything to live for. Brittany is also the first person to ever care enough to give her a nickname and it sends chills down her spine every time she calls her 'San'.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Santana is aware that the competition is getting intense. Soon they will be the last people for the Careers to hunt, if they are not already on their way. They have exceeded every expectation by making it to Day Eight.

Meanwhile Kurt sits outside with the bow, although he cannot fire it. He hears every word they say, every giggle and every telling silence. He tries to tune it out because, ultimately, he is jealous. He misses Blaine more than he will ever let on to Santana because this is her time. She could die and if she doesn't Brit will; they will be separated either way so they deserve to have some time together without him raining on their parade.

Speaking of rain, this is the moment the heavens choose to open, or rather the Gamemakers choose that they should. Wallowing in misery, Kurt is drenched with water as he sits there and the tears flood silently down his face.

He wouldn't care what this means for sponsors and how he looks even if he could control it.

"I miss you, Blaine," he says softly to the sky, hoping that his boyfriend can hear him.

As if in reply the tiniest of parachutes elegantly falls down to land neatly in his lap. A gift from a sponsor!

Kurt knows he should go and tell the girls about it immediately but this must be _his_ to have come at such a time. He unwraps it.

Bread, made in the traditional District Twelve manner. It is beautiful and instead of making him homesick it ignites new hope in him. It says to him, 'we're all still here. We'll fight for you if you will.'

It has Rachel's annoying fundraising work written all over it and Kurt allows himself to fill with gratitude for her irritating ways. A sudden impulse leads Kurt to turn over the bread and sure enough he sees it, too small to be noticed by the Gamemakers: a tiny B indented in the loaf. Blaine.

Happily Kurt raises it to the sky.

"Thank you to the people of District Twelve," he says before moving it to his mouth.

He may not have been wanting for food but the tiny gift had given him the thing he needed most: hope.

* * *

><p>"Hey San," Brittany happily greets the tribute as she bounds from the cave. It is Kurt's turn to rest and Santana keeps guard.<p>

She turns to look at the blonde. "Brit! Sit down! You shouldn't be walking on that leg yet!"

"But it's loads better," Brit protests. "That nice cream that Cecelia sent made a huge difference."

"I know, Brit, but you should still rest. Do it for me, yeah?"

Brittany sighs and nods. "You sound just like my cat back in District Eight. His name is Lord Tubbington. I think you'd like him. He would agree with you."

Santana smiles. In an ideal world she would get to go back to Eight and meet this cat she has heard so much about. But this isn't an ideal world. It won't happen. The only way Santana will get to see Brittany's hometown is on the victory tour, without her.

Obediently, Brit heads back into the cave.

* * *

><p>Santana is still on watch when the third package arrives. It is vaguely oblong and thin and Santana knows exactly what it is the second she catches sight of it. It floats down just after the anthem as Kurt ducks out of the cave to switch shifts.<p>

That's how Santana knows it's for him; Haymitch has had five hours to send something to her. Now is not the time he would pick.

"How many?" Kurt asks in hushed tones.

It takes Santana a moment to realize what he is referring to.

"One more," she says. "That leaves us, four of the careers and the girl from five."

"They'll be coming for us any day now," Kurt says steadily, with only the slightest trembling of the chin.

Santana nods. "There's a gift from your sponsors."

Kurt's eyes begin to light up before he notes the strange shape of the gift, then he looks at it, puzzled.

"It looks like..."

"I know," Santana acknowledges.

"Then it must be for you."

Santana sighs before going down to Kurt's level to explain.

"I already have the bow. We can't be allied forever, Kurt. Besides, who'd sponsor me?"

Kurt lets out a coarse cackle.

"Who'd sponsor you? Mysterious, manipulative, talented, agile, aggressive, and almost in the final eight, yes, I wonder."

There it is again, that edge which would make Santana wary of Kurt if he were any threat to her plans. He is going to make a great victor, if she can get him that far: if she wants to get him that far.

As Kurt unwraps the weapon her thoughts shift to Brittany and her dilemma. Why has she allowed Kurt to take the sword? It will make him a far more formidable enemy. Is he even going to be her enemy? The careers could kill all three of them yet.

Then Santana finally realizes why Haymitch chose to deliver the gift at that moment. It was to give her the choice. Haymitch sees everything that is going on; Haymitch is the only one who knows of her original plan. In giving Kurt the sword she has essentially declared her side or at least declared her indecision.

Kurt is staring at her in fear. Santana notices. He thrusts the sword out awkwardly and it trembles. Looking down at herself, Santana sees that she hasn't lowered her bow and she senses the tension in her eyebrows. They stand in a confused stalemate before Santana lowers her weapon.

"Sorry," she says. "I... I don't know what came over me."

Quickly, before he can make sense of things, she is vaulting back inside the cave.

* * *

><p>"Santana..."<p>

It is dark. The tribute is preparing to relieve Kurt from the cold morning air. She had thought she was being quiet enough not to wake her companion but no such luck.

Brittany uses her full name. Santana's attention snaps to the blonde instantly.

"Tomorrow I'm going to go pick out some berries for you," Brittany states and there is a new determination in her voice that Santana hasn't heard before.

"Brit..." she attempts to protest once more but she finds that the will to deny Brit has left her. "You shouldn't..."

Brittany's beautiful blue eyes stare up at her hopefully. "You've looked after me so much, San. It's my turn to help you."

She knows she'll regret it, she does. So why does she find herself nodding?

Barely audible she whispers, "Okay."

* * *

><p>Brittany goes off the next morning and Santana finds herself unable to ignore the tight feeling in her chest telling her this is a bad idea. Despite herself she watches until the girl is out of sight in the trees.<p>

She has insisted that the other girl takes the knife with her. It isn't much but it's all they have. Brittany can't use a bow, though Santana would gladly give it, and the sword belongs to Kurt. Besides, Brittany can't use that either. It's no secret that Quinn and Santana are the only reasons she's still around.

"Be safe," is the only thing Santana could say to her as she left; it's the only thing she's said since the previous evening.

Now she wishes she could have said more. Her heart hurts when Brittany walks away; this is the furthest they've been from each other since they met.

"At least you get her back soon. It doesn't get any easier," Kurt comments quietly.

"Huh?" Santana asks intelligently.

"Distance," is all Kurt will say. He hands her a new batch of arrows and picks up the sword to start practising; he might need it.

* * *

><p>"Santana, stop pacing," Kurt says. "You'll need your energy soon enough."<p>

Santana isn't even paying enough attention to credit him for making his way through that sentence with all its implications without the slightest tremble.

"She isn't back yet. It's been hours," Santana agonizes.

"You know Brittany, she probably just found a rabbit and wants to bring it back as a pet."

Kurt tries not to be bothered by the girl's absence. If she's gone it's one less obstacle to seeing Blaine again, that's how he has to think. Now that he's almost in the final eight he's allowing himself to hope even though it will just get harder from here.

Yet he can't bring himself to a safe enough distance away. Brittany, it seems, has crept into his heart too with her infectious smiles. The three of them have something closely resembling a true friendship.

Just then a cannon fires, followed swiftly by a second. Both of them jump up in reaction.

Santana's face is wild and rabid; the potential Kurt saw in her is fully realized. He thinks she might just kill _him_ there and then.

"Brittany," she whispers, pale-faced.

Now is the moment. She knew it would come down to this in the end. Brittany could be dead or it could be the girl from five or a couple of careers. Maybe the Gamemakers set a trap for them.

But Brittany could be alive. Brittany could be in trouble. Brittany could need her help. And Santana knows in that instant that Kurt is inconsequential. If the Careers are hunting Brittany, they aren't hunting Kurt. If the Careers are hunting Brittany, they're in for it.

"Look after yourself," she yells to Kurt without a backward glance. "Brittany!"

Santana tears through the bushes and undergrowth, yelling. She knows the Careers will be on her any moment. She knows she is bringing everyone in the arena to their little pocket of the world but these are not thoughts that deserve a place in her mind. The only thought residing there is for Brittany's safety.

"BRITTANY!"

She rounds a corner and another. Soon enough she doesn't know where she's running anymore, though she hasn't lost the river and its accompanying berry-bearing bushes.

Then she hears a small voice.

"San..."

Finally around the last corner she turns, there sits Brittany.

But she is not alone. Brittany's district partner also stands there. There is a reason he is the first higher district career in years; he is huge. He also has a spear and Brittany is on the floor, her bad leg caught in his net.

"Santana..." Brittany's voice pleads for forgiveness.

Snarling, Santana runs for the boy who seems twice her size but he is quicker. Hitting him with all of her weight, she shoves him into a nearby tree, where he slides to the ground, dazed.

Santana's world spins as she approaches Brittany.

"It wasn't you," she whispers. "The cannon wasn't you. Thank goodness."

Then she notices the spear sticking out of Brittany's side. The girl rasps as her breathing becomes shallow.

"No! Brittany, stay with me. Come on. I was going to help you go home."

"But how could you have? You wouldn't have been able to come too. I'm not an idiot, Santana. I know that."

"San," the other girl corrects urgently. "You call me San."

She pulls the blonde into her arms, holding on to her for dear life, afraid to let go.

"San, I have to tell you. The Careers have teamed up. They're all on the same side now."

"Shhhh," Santana shushes her. "You don't need to worry about that now."

And then tears are falling. They are falling thick and fast and Santana doesn't even want to stop them, let alone know how to.

"San..." Brittany is still speaking. "I love you."

Santana just responds by sobbing harder. "Please don't leave me, Brittany... What's your surname? I can't lose you and not know your surname."

Brittany smiles through the pain and it is beautiful. "Pierce. My name is Brittany S. Pierce but you call me Brit," she explains slowly, as though Santana cannot understand.

"Brittany S. Pierce, Brit, I love you too. I'll always love you."

"Then I'll die happy. Don't worry, San, this isn't goodbye," she says matter-of-factly.

"It isn't?"

"No. See you soon, San."

The rasping gives way and Brittany coughs a last, inelegant breath.

"See you soon, Brit," Santana says.

District Eight is running at her now. He doesn't seem real. None of this seems real. Then suddenly it is. Santana rises, powerful and angry. The boy from Eight expects to collide with her skull so is very shocked to find himself landing on the arrow in her outstretched hand.

"You son of a bitch," Santana spits, tears flying from her face in all directions.

And so she is left, in a clearing with the two bodies.

But not for long. Two of the remaining Careers have found her. There should be five people left in these Games, Santana calculates. So the third Career must be...

Instead of standing to fight, Santana turns and flies back up the river.

"Kurt! Kurt! Run!"

She may not have been able to save Brittany but hell will freeze over before she allows anyone but Kurt Hummel to leave this arena.

To his credit, Kurt jumps up as soon as he hears Santana's strangled cries. This is it. This is the end, for at least one of them anyway. He takes a second to snatch up his treasured sword before hurtling as far away from the commotion as possible.

WHAM! Suddenly he flies into something solid; a human being. She picks herself off the floor menacingly.

"Not so fast, Twelve," she sneers. "We've got you now. Thought you could hide from us, did you? Hiding gets you nowhere; this isn't Hide and Seek."

The sword is a dead weight in Kurt's hands. He can no more lift it gracefully than he can bring himself to launch the point into the girl's heart.

"Oi! Karovsky! Azimio!" she yells and before Kurt can turn around Santana's pursuers are also there.

They don't stop to gloat, unlike their ally. Five left. Just five left. Karovsky goes straight on the attack but Kurt, rooted to the spot, does all that he can.

"Stop," he commands.

By some miracle the boy stops in surprise. Perhaps no one has ever told him that quite so forcefully.

Their eyes meet for a split second and Kurt can see the fear and conflict in them. This is how he has been raised. He doesn't want to kill. He has never known anything else. And he never will, not now he's been in the games.

"You don't have to do this, Karovsky," Kurt tells him. "I don't have to be your enemy."

The words may have hit home, as can be evidenced from the larger boy's hesitation, but it only a matter of time before their utter falseness becomes evident. This is the Hunger Games.

And Karovsky does pull himself back together. He advances once more so Kurt thinks fast and ducks, cowering backwards into a tree.

"Please," he begs, not really needing to act too much, "please don't hurt me."

Karovsky pulls back as though slapped. Kurt was right, he is conflicted. The change of mood has confused him. He doesn't seem to know what to do next, very aware of his two aggressive allies. He is expected to just kill this helpless prey.

"I... I'm not going to hurt you. If you just let me go I'll find a way to disappear on my own. I'm begging you."

Tears are falling now, partly from true fear and deep emotion. Since all three of them are here it means Santana has fallen. He is now truly alone. He was stupid to think he was in with a chance. Now his entire being is just fixed on not being killed here. Not right now.

Karovsky is still staring at him.

"What the hell are you playing at, Karovsky?" the girl demands angrily. "Kill him!"

Still the District One tribute fails to respond so the girl runs for Kurt herself, battle-axe flailing.

Now it is truly the end, Kurt thinks. He attempts to dodge out of the way, just waiting until her blade finally hits its target. It never does.

Roaring, Karovsky finally moves, turning not on Kurt but on the girl. He slashes at her abdomen, she aims for his head.

What has just happened?

Still in shock, Kurt slinks around the tree quietly. He doesn't know where the third Career has gone.

Two cannons sound. There is silence.

Kurt sits there, breathing quietly. Now there are two. So close and yet so far. There is no way Kurt will be able to get close enough to Azimio of District Two without being squashed like a bug. He waits.

Suddenly the feeble little sapling he hides behind is pulled out from its roots. Azimio's powerful hands throw it away and search for Kurt's neck, raising him into the air like a trophy.

"Victory is mine," he grins manically.

And then Kurt is on the floor again. A cannon fires but he is not dead. The woods swim slowly back into view as he takes long rasping breaths. There is a foot in front of him. He sits up. There is a hand. It is being offered to him, a slim, tanned hand. He takes it. It pulls him up.

"Congratulations, victor," Santana says softly.

The world makes sense again. Santana has evaded the Careers leading them to chase him in hopes she will follow. There is an arrow sticking from Azimio's skull.

Truly then it has come down to this for the first time ever: Twelve against Twelve. At least Blaine and his family will eat well from now on.

Feebly, wearily, Kurt hands over the sword, hilt first.

"You never promised but I'd still appreciate it being quick," he says quietly. "At least if it's you I can ask for that."

Santana just shakes her head. Her decision has been made; it was made as soon as her name came out of those reaping balls. Two left and she will not go home. She refuses to live, what reason does she have? Life in Twelve will still be lonely with a big house and loads of money. Brittany will still be dead.

"You're not going to die," she tells him. "You're going to win."

She throws the bow aside.

Kurt's features widen. "I'm not going to kill you, Santana. I couldn't live with that."

She nods. "I know. That's the beauty of it. You will be the first Hunger Games victor to ever win without killing a soul. We were always told that in the Hunger Games it's kill or be killed. You don't have to do either."

Kurt staggers backwards, still trying to take all this in whilst his exhaustion catches up to him. Finally he makes sense of it all.

"No!" he protests. "No, Santana, you can't!"

She is close to breaking point now; she can't hold in this onslaught of emotions that she has never had to feel.

"Why the hell not?" she demands bitterly. "What on earth could possibly be left for me now? I never wanted to leave this arena, that was never my intention."

"I can't... Santana, I can't just watch you die. You're my friend."

"Look away then," she snaps. "Let's just get this over with. Give me the sword."

"I..." Kurt hesitates. "Please, Santana..."

"You're the first person ever to object to being allowed to live. Think about Blaine and give me the damn sword!"

There is his moment of weakness. Kurt pictures Blaine welcoming him home. He pictures the celebrations and the riches and the love and in that split second Santana snatches the sword away.

Finally he has come to accept it. "I'm sorry," he apologizes quietly. "I wish we could have been friends, better friends, before."

"That would have made this harder," Santana says with a sigh, just holding in a sob.

Suddenly, without warning, Kurt launches himself at her in a hug.

Now she cannot stop the steady stream of tears. She isn't sure she can do this but looking at Kurt's shining, grimy face she knows she must.

One minute later Santana Lopez is dead.

"Santana," Kurt sobs.

He doesn't even notice the sudden arrival of the hovercraft. He is removed from the body. He is taken away. It is over.


	6. Chapter 4: Homeward Bound

**A/N Hi guys! I know it's been forever. Thanks for sticking with me over my hiatus. My exams are now over and you lot are my top priority. However, the next chapter will unfortunately be delayed until I get my hands on a copy of the book because it will follow Katniss and Peeta interacting with Kurt. If I could avoid the delay, I would, sorry. Thank you to my proofreader for this chapter. I really hope you enjoy this entry, it has been the hardest so far to write.**

**On that note, WARNING: this chapter does contain reference to an incident of homophobic violence. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the Hunger Games. **

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4: Homeward Bound<span>

He is walking shakily towards Caesar, a last step before he gets to see Blaine again, when Haymitch corners him.

"Listen to me," he hisses. "You didn't know about Miss Lopez's plan, got it?"

"I _didn't_ know about Santana's plan anyway," Kurt replies, confused.

"Good. If you can convince me, you can convince the audience. If they think for a second you did, they'll have your head, got it?"

"Got it," Kurt responds, a little scared of his mentor's new urgency. Caesar awaits.

"Kurt!" Caesar greets as though he has never been happier to see anyone in his life. His smile seems to say 'I always expected it to be you' despite the fact that even this man couldn't hide that he had absolutely no faith in the weedy little thing from District Twelve.

"Caesar," Kurt replies shakily.

"Come along, my boy, do sit down," Caesar instructs heartily. "It's good to see you here. You won't be offended if I tell you it was surprising to say the least?"

Kurt falls into the hard, imposing chair just before his legs give out. He is feeling the strangest mix of anger and fear; emotions that Kurt Hummel does not feel.

Kurt lets out a wry chuckle; it is almost bitter and so unlike him. "Trust me, Caesar. I'm surprised I'm here."

Haymitch's words come back to him as he sees President Snow's brows dip in the distance. He has to convince the audience that he knew nothing about Santana's plan. To do that he has to act as though they never had a plan in the first place. He cannot be Kurt Hummel here; he must put the mask back on and become nervous tribute from Twelve just like he was in the games.

Speaking of the games, that is what will take up the next few hours of Kurt's life.

"Well, Kurt, your victory is definitely inspiring. Let's take a look, shall we?"

They do. It seems this year he is being painted as the little engine that could. Interspersed among the gruesome murders committed by the Careers are snippets of scenes between him and Santana. They seem to have chosen the ones in which she seems to dominate; the scenes that reinforce his timid persona.

Caesar chooses to comment on the noticeable fear in Kurt's eyes when Santana brings Brittany back to the cave and Kurt just sits there mute and horrified by the destruction he was mostly sheltered from.

They show the moment with the bread too and Kurt is glad that he gets to show his district in such a favourable light, though of course they haven't shown it for that reason.

There is so much more they could show and Kurt's blood boils at the unfairness. Brittany's death is glossed over and ignored, like the entirety of Santana's relationship with her. Kurt supposes it contradicts the Capitol's image of evil, rebellious Santana who played the Gamemakers.

He also supposes this portrayal is the only thing keeping him alive but can't seem to care.

Then he is running, onscreen, that is. Actually, he is quite proud of that; who knew he could run that fast?

But Kurt shies away from the rest. He doesn't want to see the mysterious death of Karovsky, whose first name, he has learnt, was Dave. He doesn't even want to wonder why the burly Career defended _him_ at the cost of his own life but that will undoubtedly be something he has to explain away to take the suspicion off himself.

The girl was called Harmony, he has also learnt. He could have gone his entire life without finding out that she died after shoving her axe straight into Karovsky's head via his eye socket, succumbing to the gaping hole he left in her torso.

Then he is onscreen again, hiding from Azimio. This bit he does watch; he wants to know what happened. Onscreen Kurt is losing consciousness slowly and that seems like years ago now. The camera pans around to a tree. Santana perches on a lower branch and aims. She doesn't even wait for her shot to hit home before vaulting out of the tree to reach the forest floor where Kurt has landed.

They cut out all of the ensuing conversation, which Kurt honestly should have been expecting. The next shot is merely a close up of Santana's battered body. To a viewer who hadn't seen it live it would seem Kurt had cracked from the oppression of his stronger ally and run his sword through her. Her bow is on the floor just a metre away. The sword belongs to him. The puzzle pieces fit easily.

Finally the highlights finish. Kurt is numb- no need to act timid- as President Snow advances and places the crown on his head.

* * *

><p>The start of the new day heralds something new for Kurt and he is dreading it. The interview. It's the last hurdle, the home stretch but Kurt just knows it will be the most taxing to keep up his façade when all the attention is on him.<p>

Nonetheless, he puts on his prettiest camera smile and gathers up a nervous laugh as he slopes out there towards the towering host.

He is greeted as warmly as ever and it feels like no time has passed at all until they reach the more meaty parts of the conversation.

"Santana," Caesar says abruptly. "Your fellow tribute from District Twelve. Tell us all about your relationship with her. Why did she want you in her grasp?"

Kurt stammers his best attempt at a terrified and hateful reply. It is hard. 'Please forgive me, Santana', he prays as he, her only friend, begins to tear apart what is left of her reputation.

"I don't know, Caesar. She... she threatened me," he whispers. "She told me she'd kill me first if I didn't co-operate."

The audience gasps, as if the idea of teenagers killing each other is so terrible to them.

"You were scared of her?"

"Terrified," Kurt agrees, tapping into his initial feelings at their alliance. "She could have killed me any time and she made sure I knew that. She always had to be in control, always had some kind of plan."

"So she told you her plan was for you to win?"

They have reached dangerous ground; Kurt never had the intention of implying that at all. He didn't know, so why does he feel like he's lying somehow? Is it because she wasn't a bully? Is it because there is in fact a very logical reason for her plan to protect him? Is it because now no one will know who she really was, what she really meant to him?

He feels like standing right up, right there and declaring his true personality, and hers, to the masses but her face comes to the front of his mind. If he does that, her sacrifice is for nothing. If he does that, he dies anyway and so does Haymitch, maybe even Effie. It won't bring her back either.

"N-no, she never told me anything. I was... I was too scared to ask."

"Ah," Caesar nods. "I suppose she took her reasons to the grave then?"

Kurt can't speak. He just nods, heart beating like mad.

Eventually, Kurt finds his voice. "I think she was insane," he says quietly. "She never had any friends back home, she was like a savage."

Thankfully, _finally_, the audience and Caesar accept this line of reasoning and the heat is lifted for a few seconds. Then Caesar asks his next question.

"And the District One tribute, Dave Karovsky. What happened there?"

Kurt is completely at a loss for what to say. This is not one of the topics he has had time to find a plausible reason for so he chooses the truth.

"I thought I was dead for sure," he says, allowing a little shiver. "I hadn't seen him in the arena until that day. I really don't know why he would do that."

He knows he should be safe. The cameras back up their lack of a meeting. He just feels like he should know, like the audience thinks he should know. But he doesn't.

The interview is coming to a close as Caesar asks his final question; the only one Kurt can answer from the heart.

"Are you looking forward to returning to District Twelve?"

For the first time a smile allows itself onto Kurt's features.

"More than anything. I never thought I'd see my family again. I miss them so much."

Then it's over and before he knows it Kurt Hummel is finally returning home. He is coming back to his dad, to Carole, to Finn, to Rachel. He is coming home to Blaine.

* * *

><p>The train arrives in the bright harsh glare of early morning. Conditions seemed mellower in the Capitol; entities glowed rather than stinging. As Kurt Hummel disembarks, he breathes in the smell and spirit of his home; the home he thought he'd never see again.<p>

Just then, as his eyes finally focus, he sees the lonely gaggle awaiting him. There are two male figures: one tall, one broad, and two short females but Kurt barely notices them as his eyes latch on to the curly-haired schoolteacher.

It may be cliché but Kurt swears time stands still. Before he knows it, he is gathered in Blaine's arms, a tangle of limbs, breathing declarations of love into each other's ears. Why does it feel like it was only yesterday they were forced apart? After all, Kurt is a changed man now. So is Blaine, for that matter. Kurt doesn't suppose for a second that the experience was any easier on his boyfriend.

Then once again they are pried apart but this time for happier reasons. There isn't a dry eye there as Burt almost suffocates his son and one by one they all start crying into Kurt's nice new shirt.

Yet he doesn't even care. He is home. He has his family and he now finally understands Santana's perfectly logical motives. He owes it all to her and, despite the horrors he has witnessed, he can't remember a single day when he was happier.

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, they fall so easily back into their old routines with the mere difference of the large house in the Victor's Village to contend with. Only Blaine insists on still working. He actually loves his job and it isn't like it's dangerous like Burt and Finn's; that's the reasoning Kurt eventually accepts, anyway.<p>

Kurt begins to work on a talent which manifests itself in his new passion, inspired by the powerful outfits of the Games, outfits which can really decide who lives and dies,: designing. Everything seems like it will be fine until that one news report.

It's mid-afternoon, end of school time, when the afternoon celebrity news comes on. Kurt is vaguely listening to it but initially mention of his name doesn't bother him; he is the Capitol's favourite person to talk about at the moment. No, he is only bothered by what follows his name.

"Rumours abound in the Capitol as it comes to light that our favourite teenager, Hunger Games victor, Kurt Hummel, is gay!"

Kurt drops the bowl he is washing up as he stares at the screen, disbelieving. Burt sits up straight on the sofa.

"How did they know?" Kurt demands into thin air.

As if in answer the reporter shows a clip of the Kurt and Blaine's reunion.

"That doesn't prove anything," Burt attempts to console. "You were happy to see each other. That makes sense even if you were just friends."

Yet Kurt knows it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that it could be easily explained away. It won't matter to the people of District Twelve. Once an idea has been fed to a mindless crowd, it won't go away just like that.

That reporter, with her _stupid_ turquoise hair is continuing to back up her evidence, explaining that Blaine is the 'special friend' mentioned in Kurt's interview. She remembers that one moment of weakness in the games. She puts the pieces together in what she sees as rock solid proof, ignorant, or perhaps uncaring, of the lives she has just ruined.

But Kurt is no longer paying her any attention. "Blaine," he whispers. "We have to get to Blaine."

He is at the door as fast as his legs will carry him, despite his father's protestations. He vaguely notes Finn descending the stairs, wondering about the kerfuffle, as he flings open the door. It is caught deftly by a stocky figure on the other side.

"Stay in the house," Haymitch orders.

"But... the news... Blaine," Kurt retorts urgently.

"You going out and causing a scene is not the best way to get your boyfriend home safely right now," Haymitch tells him abruptly. "Now, get inside and stay inside until I tell you otherwise."

"Haymitch, I don't have time for this!" Kurt yells angrily. "You know how District Twelve feel about..."

"I know a damn sight more than you do about the entire situation and I'm handling it. Now get inside!"

Not waiting for his response, Haymitch hoists up the struggling victor and throws him back inside the house, to the bewilderment of his gathered family.

"Finn, Burt, with me," Haymitch orders. "Carole, keep Kurt here. Let's go."

They obey him without question, leaving Kurt feeling abandoned in the middle of the living room, full of sudden emotion.

* * *

><p>In the half hour it takes the men to return Kurt has paced the room 25 times, much to Carole's chagrin. He doesn't understand why the Capitol would do this to him. He fought in their games. He won their games. They are meant to leave him alone right now and they never, never, had any right to involve Blaine in this. He's a District Twelve boy, through and through. He's never been anywhere else. He knows nothing about their crazy, indulgent world.<p>

Then suddenly they are back. Blaine leans on Finn as his eye swells and Burt seems to be nursing a split lip whilst even Haymitch can't hide the evidence of a scuffle.

As Kurt watches, open-mouthed, they set Blaine down on the sofa.

"What happened? Are you okay?" are the first words out of his mouth, even though, clearly, Blaine is not okay.

"Parents outside the school," Blaine winces. "Apparently, they didn't want 'someone like me' teaching their children," he spits angrily. "I just want to know how on earth they knew I'm gay."

"I'm so so sorry," Kurt says, white-faced and fretting.

"It's too late now," Blaine snaps, in a very un-Blainelike manner. "I can't ever teach there again. This will only keep happening and now I'm stuck in this stupid house my whole life!"

"Blaine..." Kurt reaches out for his boyfriend but Blaine merely turns away. "I can't understand why they would do this to me, to us."

"Well, I can," Haymitch tells him. "How about we all calm down and listen to me for a change?"

Kurt turns all his anger and anxiety on his mentor.

"Why didn't you let me come and help?" he demands.

"And your presence would have made the situation infinitely better," Haymitch says, words loaded with sarcasm.

Finally, Kurt falls silent and allows him to talk.

"This is what the Capitol does, boy. You're lucky they allowed your family to live. You come out of the Hunger Games and think you'll have the world but that would make you far too powerful. They have to have a way of controlling you and they just found yours."

There are looks of shock filling the faces of the simple coal-mining family.

"But that can't be allowed. That's completely immoral!" Kurt yells.

"And making teenagers fight to the death isn't?" Haymitch asks. "You have to stay on your guard at all times, boy, and stay quiet, lay low. That's what it takes to survive against them."

"I don't care! They're going to pay for this!"

Suddenly a louder voice than Kurt's shrill yells fills the room.

"Shut up and give it a rest, Kurt!" Blaine shouts. "Haven't you caused us enough trouble? For god's sake, let it go! It's your fault we're in this mess. You and your little girlfriend."

With difficulty, Blaine storms out of the room.

"For your sake and mine," Haymitch says quietly. "This conversation never happened. Look after him. Keep everyone close."

And the Hummel-Hudsons are left alone with nothing but the knowledge that the struggle isn't even remotely over. No, the nightmare has just begun.


	7. Chapter 5: The Mentor

**A/N Here is the Mentor aka the chapter that gave me hell for like six weeks. To make up for that you get 1000 words per week. Fanks for betaing Hiding.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or the characters from Glee. Italicised text denotes text taken from the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins and belongs to her. **

* * *

><p><span>The Mentor<span>

Reapings are always the worst. Kurt has to look out across the sea of faces and lock eyes with this year's victims. He has to remember how it felt to hear his name called. Worst of all, though, he can always see the old Blaine in the families of the teenagers and Santana in the hordes of young ladies and all he can think about is how much he wishes bad things didn't have to happen to good people.

This is the Capitol he's thinking about, though. He's stood here and watched as four kids got sent to their deaths in the last two years and so he feels much older than his twenty years.

Haymitch stumbles into his chair, pulling the drunkard routine. Is it even a routine today? Most days Kurt can't tell the difference.

"Ladies first," Effie says in her insufferable manner, pulling out a slip.

And it's the worst result imaginable. District Twelve's new female tribute is a tiny twelve-year-old. She can only have had one slip in there, surely? Then a girl comes rushing forward. She's older and resembles Santana so much it's painful for Kurt to think about but he's going to have to. He's going to have to think about her a whole lot more because she has just volunteered and, unlike Blaine, she is eligible to.

Haymitch is being extremely embarrassing as he staggers across the stage towards the poor girl. Katniss, her name is.

"_Look at her. Look at this one,"_ Haymitch crows. _"I like her. Lots of... spunk."_

At that moment Kurt knows that he can see the Santana in her too so maybe, just maybe, she'll have a chance for once. Haymitch always says Santana could have had it all, after all.

Then Haymitch does the one thing that makes Kurt able to distinguish this sober him from his true drunk state. He addresses the cameras, masked and protected by the masquerade.

"_More than you! More than you!"_ he yells and the girl seems more shaken than reassured by his display so Kurt moves forward to shake her hand.

"Welcome to Team Twelve," Kurt smiles, shaking her hand. She manages a brief, weak smile in return.

Just when Kurt thinks this Reaping cannot get any more eventful the male tribute is called. Unfortunately, he recognises the name, though he only has a vague acquaintance with the boy. It's Peeta Mellark, Blaine's favourite student and Rachel's secret sponsorship weapon.

Kurt can sense that this year will be worse than ever before. The Hunger Games have begun.

* * *

><p>Blaine watches silently from the back of the crowd. This is the only day of the year he can leave without being threatened with assault. That's only because of the cameras. When Peeta Mellark is selected his legs turn to jelly. It is almost as bad as Kurt's reaping over again. Peeta still comes to visit him sometimes; he is his link to the outside world. Now that's gone too, just like Kurt.<p>

He keeps his feelings inside until he reaches his prison for another year. Blaine may not actually speak to Kurt anymore but that doesn't stop him from addressing his desperate wish to his estranged boyfriend. Kurt is somewhere on a train right now but he is the one with the power.

"Please, Kurt, keep Peeta safe," Blaine begs.

* * *

><p>Effie goes to collect the tributes for supper. The tributes, that's what Kurt has become accustomed to calling the victims. He cannot afford to become too well acquainted with <em>Katniss <em>and _Peeta_. They are Girl and Boy.

"_Where's Haymitch?_" she demands of Kurt.

Kurt shrugs quietly; over the years he has perfected his little twitchy quiet boy routine. Effie has come to expect it, despite the fact that she knew him before it became necessity.

Peeta- _the Boy_- answers her. The Girl just looks vaguely irritated.

"_Well, it's been an exhausting day,_" is Effie's best attempt to make Haymitch's behaviour seem acceptable.

She may not know this but he is probably up in his room measuring up the tributes and planning countless strategies already. The drunkenness just gives him a decent excuse.

The tributes, as usual, seem ecstatic to see such rich food. Kurt remembers that feeling but that just reminds him of Santana beside him. It was a constant battle of wills, of course, but she was familiar. Now, however, he just eats primly, in silence.

No words pass between the four unlikely companions until the end of the main course, at which point Effie has the nerve to say, "_At least you two have decent manners. The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion._"

Kurt is outraged, though his face remains a mask. Will and Katya- _Boy and Girl-_ were two of the nicest teenagers he had ever met. So they were hungry, what did it matter? Katniss also has the decency to look even more irritated and Kurt notices with a smile that she ensures the rest of her meal is consumed with relatively poor table manners. She does have spunk. Kurt can just see Santana's spirit radiating from her eyes.

There is no way Kurt will watch the Reapings again if he can avoid it, though he knows Haymitch will be doing so from his room so he quietly claims fatigue and makes his exit.

Unfortunately that means he misses a short conversation between Effie and the tributes in which his competence is questioned.

_"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."_

This isn't true, though Effie won't understand that. Haymitch knows everything there is to know about presentation and has the best acting skills of anyone Kurt has ever met, including himself.

_"He was drunk. He's drunk every year,"_ Peeta comments correctly.

"_Every day,"_ Katniss adds.

"_Yes, how odd you two find it amusing,"_ Effie snaps. "_You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death."_

Katniss is slightly deterred by this. "We have Kurt," she comes up with but this provokes a fiery response from Effie.

"Ah yes, of course you do. Kurt Hummel is of less use than grey clothing!" she yells, though being from District Twelve, Peeta and Katniss do not quite get what she means; grey clothing can be very useful there.

However, as she continues her meaning becomes apparent. "He does nothing but sit in the corner. I rarely hear the boy utter a word. He won his Games through dumb luck. You two won't be half as lucky."

Haymitch promptly walks in and throws up and Effie flounces off.

_"So laugh away."_

Haymitch, having heard the conversation, smirks inwardly at the evidence of a job well done.

* * *

><p>Again Kurt is silently present at the next show Haymitch gives him. Quite rightly he had predicted that this particular pair of tributes would be fed up with the elder mentor's behaviour. However, he is slightly shocked to see the violence that follows. It always surprises Kurt, though it shouldn't, to see Haymitch's finesse. That welt on the boy's face won't be healing in a hurry and it tells of more physicality than Kurt could manage, even with his younger years and comparative sobriety.<p>

That scuffle aside, though, the girl. Kurt has admittedly noticed the grip she exerts on any kind of weapon in her possession, including the simple knife, but the accuracy of the throw and the dangerous, almost delighted glint in her eyes reveal her as a formidable opponent.

However, Kurt knows that she will be Haymitch's tribute. He has the most to give her so instead Kurt tries to focus on Blaine's favourite student, Rachel's sponsorship accomplice- no, just Boy. Boy could benefit from some acting coaching even though he has the nice-guy routine down if the looks he gives Girl are anything to go by.

Yet this isn't how it turns out, immediately at least. Haymitch has quiet words with Kurt the next day.

"It's Santana again," he says bluntly. "Only she _wants_ to win. Problem is we can read her like a book."

Kurt senses this will become his job but he has to protest. Haymitch is well-known for picking favourites as his own experience leads him to readily attest.

"Peeta," he says. "He has promise. We can train him up."

Haymitch just shoots him right down. "No. It's her. Do you really think he can take her out?"

This statement has many levels of truth from both the physical and emotional points of view but it is not until after Katniss and Peeta have been paraded around in flames that Kurt realises what is meant by 'It's her'.

_"Whose idea was the hand-holding?"_ Haymitch asks.

Portia tells him.

"_Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice."_

Suddenly Kurt is reminded of hushed moments in corridor between Haymitch and a District 11 mentor: Chaff.

"She could be the key: the linchpin."

They were talking about Santana, of course. Haymitch always encouraged Santana's rebellion and the way he always approached the Capitol as an enemy seemed to indicate a quiet allegiance elsewhere.

Haymitch sends away everyone bar Kurt and the stylist, Cinna.

The eldest of the men surveys the other two, sizing them up. Silently he beckons them to follow him. They end up on Haymitch's balcony which, being part of Team Twelve, is small and not exactly the best fit for three fully-grown men.

"How do you feel about the Capitol, Kurt?" the man finally asks.

Kurt feels oddly caught. Isn't it Haymitch who always tells him to keep his feelings quiet? He would answer Haymitch's question without delay if not for Cinna, a relative unknown, standing there.

So he shrugs and quietly mutters something non-committal to which Haymitch glares.

"Don't worry about him, he's no spy," Haymitch grunts, irritated.

The look in Cinna's eyes speaks volumes. He seems trustworthy but his eyes reflect Haymitch's words with the hint of some extra secret, seeming to say 'not against you, anyway.'

"Think about what they did to Santana and Blaine," Haymitch demands, still attempting to elicit an emotional response. He succeeds.

Like an idiot, Kurt does and is propelled into rage. "And me," he says angrily. With no hint of affected stutter, voice clear as day, he adds, "They're cruel sadistic witches who deserve to rot in hell."

Cinna nods unexpectedly and Haymitch looks triumphant.

"Good," he grimaces. "So we're all on the same page. If I'm correct, Cinna, there are more than 12 hours on the clock for you too."

Finally, Cinna breaks into a smile and shakes off his wariness. "Your instincts are correct. Should I assume there is a 13th for Mr Hummel also?"

Again, Cinna's eyes say more than his voice. They tell of a doubt in Kurt's apparent uselessness.

"Kurt is sympathetic. I aimed to initiate him tonight, with your permission."

Haymitch is treading carefully and Kurt notes the two of them mentally pacing around each other but at the same time holding a mutual understanding. Cinna nods gravely and Kurt can no longer take the secrecy.

"What's going on, Haymitch?" he demands. "I want you to be completely honest with me for once. What kind of society are you part of?"

"Your patience is an admirable asset, Kurt," Cinna says conversationally, with a voice that Kurt suspects could even have put Santana at ease. "To answer your question: the rebellion. We are agents of District 13."

Suddenly it all makes sense: Haymitch's knowledge of the Capitol, his urgency and the whole charade. Sometime later the true purpose of the meeting becomes clear. They are there to discuss Katniss.

"Is she it?" Haymitch asks Cinna.

Again Cinna nods. He explains and Kurt finally understands.

"What we needed was a tribute, a girl, who could push the Districts over the edge. A centrepiece, a linchpin, crucial to our victory."

"And that's her?" Kurt questions.

"That's her," Haymitch confirms.

* * *

><p>Pretending the previous night's conversation never happened comes surprisingly easy to Kurt. He allows himself to switch off as Haymitch gets down to business, discussing tactics with the tributes. His quiet, unassuming personality is effortlessly preserved.<p>

However, there is one part to Haymitch's strategy that Kurt has not been informed of.

"_One last thing. In public I want you by each other's side every minute."_

This confuses Kurt. Haymitch, given his observation skills, cannot have missed Peeta's feelings for Katniss so what, exactly, is he up to in forcing them to spend every waking minute together? Kurt knows enough to know that this will be emotional suicide during the Games. It was Haymitch, after all, that warned Santana off of allying with her District partner.

Looking after the two tributes, Kurt realises Haymitch's plan. Having Peeta as her staunch bodyguard will help Katniss but once more Kurt finds himself the only one worrying for the boy's safety.

* * *

><p>While Haymitch may ignore the boy, as soon as he returns Kurt ensures he finds out exactly how his Gamemaker session went. The boy responds, not enthusiastically but not despondent either, with a simple summary of his actions and the reactions given.<p>

"I'm pretty sure the Head Gamemaker looked up at the best moment," he is saying.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Katniss storms in, holding back tears. Effie jumps to her feet and runs after the distraught youth only to get the door slammed in her face. Peeta looks extremely anxious as it is obvious something must have gone terribly wrong. When things go wrong for most people in District 12 it can mean going without food for a few days. For this girl it can easily mean her death.

However, Haymitch breaks into an ugly, yellow-toothed grin.

After countless attempts to break down the door by both Effie and Haymitch, Kurt is finally noticed.

Haymitch nods at him, "Take a go," he orders.

Kurt creeps gingerly up to Katniss's door.

"Katniss? It's Kurt. Can I come in?" he asks politely.

At first she screams at him to 'go away' and 'why can't they leave her alone' and other less palatable things. Then, however, once she's stopped she realises he's still there and opens the door a crack. Kurt slithers in.

The girl is a mess.

"W-what happened?" Kurt stutters. Even Katniss cannot resist the lure of telling a story to a wavering young man. This is why Haymitch sends him to find their information; no one thinks he will be listening, let alone remembering.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," Katniss replies flatly.

Kurt almost cries; she is so like Santana in that moment.

"Okay," he says quietly. "Did it hurt anyone?"

Katniss almost does a double-take at the unobtrusive logical and steady manner in which Kurt approaches the question.

"No, I don't think so," she says. "I left. They're going to be so mad at me."

There is no point refuting that statement.

Kurt sits and waits for Katniss to regain her composure.

She whispers her greatest fear so only he can hear. "Will they kill me? Or my family?"

He shakes his head. "Wouldn't be worth the paperwork," he mutters bitterly. "Katniss, no matter what you had done, your life was always going to be hell from here out. You're going to have to fight like mad just to hold on to who you are. Most tributes don't manage it. Even if you win, nothing is ever going to be the same. That's not always a good thing."

Pityingly, Katniss looks at Kurt in a new light.

"Kurt, at least you made it out..." she begins but he abruptly cuts her off.

"You sound like me three years ago. Every tribute sees winning as the most desirable thing. Every victor wishes they died in the arena."

Kurt realises this is not the best way to cheer up the tribute and changes his tack.

"But my point is, no matter what happens to you, Katniss, you're not alone. You're never alone. You have your friends and your family and I know it doesn't feel like it now but Haymitch, Cinna and I have your best interests at heart. You can come out the other side. You can fight through this. The first step towards that is coming out of this room and eating with us."

A wary smile breaks out on Katniss's face.

"Thank you, Kurt."

"Let's go and face this together."

He goes to leave. It doesn't take her too long to follow him out.

Slowly, Katniss manages to explain what happened to the rest of the team and they make light hearted, if not slightly morbid, comments which cheer her up.

"_For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy."_ Portia comments.

Looking at Kurt across the room, Katniss finally appreciates his firm gaze and constant presence. She was wrong. Kurt's shyness and apparent feebleness isn't a weakness that made people assume he would die. It doesn't make him the greatest let-down victor ever. Kurt's apparent feebleness is a strength. It's an act he's built up. It saved him in the Games and it continues to save him every day from people seeing him as a threat.

Katniss looks at the other people in the room. How many of them does she really know? Kurt's words come back to her: most tributes don't manage to hold on to who they are. Is Haymitch really a hopeless drunk? Kurt is certainly no delicate flower.

Then Katniss remembers just which victor Kurt was. His fellow tribute was Santana Lopez, the girl who came second and killed herself. Kurt has never killed anyone but there is a difference between not killing and not being able to. He can yield and that is what made him successful. To win the Games you must pay more attention to what your fellow tributes are doing than to your personal strategy.

Katniss looks at Peeta, really looks at him, as a certain enemy for the first time. Gone are any remnants of their friendly pretence because Katniss sees that she is the new Santana to a tee, complete with archery abilities. That makes Peeta the new Kurt. Kurt, who somehow manipulated, or at least influenced, Santana's emotions so that she threw victory away. She cannot allow Peeta to get under her skin; it could be fatal.

At yet she must have done, to feel betrayal at Peeta's sudden tactic change. Perhaps all that pretending to be friends got to her.

Kurt too is surprised when Haymitch tells him. They will both mentor both tributes. This also shocks him; Haymitch didn't previously seem to care much for the male tribute.

"_Good,_" is Katniss's outward response. "_So what's the schedule?_"

"_You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me and Kurt for content. You start with Effie, Katniss."_

Kurt will never cease to be amazed by Haymitch's ability to stay ahead of the game. He doubts he'll get used to it either.

The vibe is very different between Haymitch and Peeta without Katniss present. Peeta no longer holds back quietly. Haymitch doesn't look through him in response and actually pays attention. It feels oddly like some strange battle of wills.

However, the tension doesn't last long. Haymitch gets right down to business.

"Your saving grace is your charm," he says bluntly. "Lay it on nice and thick. You are the boy next door. Play to the audience and they will love you."

Peeta nods; he has been doing this ever since he arrived anyway.

Haymitch grills Peeta with some questions and Kurt is pleased to see that his instincts were right about the boy; he is a complete natural. Honestly, Kurt believes Peeta's confident charmer even more than he believes his own scared ferret impression.

The older mentor merely nods as though expecting it.

"You just need one more thing; an edge. You need something to make the audience root for you," Haymitch tells the boy who is drinking up his every word.

"At the moment I see bland charmer who is trying too hard to make everyone happy. Sure, you're likeable, but any smart audience will see straight through that unless there's something unequivocally real about you. Don't suppose you've got anything like that hidden away, boy?"

There is a twinkle in Haymitch's eyes. Peeta looks to him and sees what he is implying. Helpless, he turns to Kurt but sees that even that quivering idiot knows about his crush on Katniss. His heart sinks.

"You want me to talk about my feelings for Katniss," Peeta states.

"The starcrossed lovers from District Twelve makes a great angle," Haymitch comments.

Suddenly, Kurt feels very out of the loop. He has been included in their discussions of Katniss and her potential but it seemed that Haymitch was merely ignoring his thoughts on Peeta. Now he sees that isn't the case. Haymitch has been plotting a wider angle, as has Cinna, from the moment they saw the two together. Now the matching outfits and holding hands all make sense.

But Peeta clams up. He stands up angrily, the first show of negative emotion Kurt has witnessed from him.

"I can't. I can't do that. You want me to put my emotions out there where she'll see them. I don't want her to feel any guilt about killing me in that arena. You can try all your matchmaking out here but even if she feels the same way we can't be together. One of us isn't coming out of there. I won't do that to her," he objects.

Haymitch tries to bring him round but instantly Kurt knows he has chosen the wrong tack.

"I don't want you to marry the girl! Just show some interest, give the people a show. You can tell her it's for the cameras if you like but it's completely in your own interests. If you don't do this you won't get any sponsors, boy, don't you see that?"

"I don't want sponsors! I don't want to win!" Peeta yells back and they are both on their feet and in each other's faces.

Kurt stands up too and clears his throat.

"May I?" he stammers politely.

Haymitch rolls his eyes but waves the young man forward before returning to his seat.

Kurt addresses Peeta. "It wouldn't just be helping you," he says. "In my Games I had a fellow tribute. Her name was Santana. She could've won but she played alongside my quiet coward tactics to get us left alone in the arena. Once we were there she switched to domineering bully so that the Capitol wouldn't see us as allies. If she hadn't done that I wouldn't have made it past the Cornucopia. Those tactics didn't help her much but they helped me. It can be the same with you and Katniss. Presenting the two of you together gains her some support too. It means you can help her in the arena without people second guessing your motives. It means you can lead others astray while seeming to have only one thought track. Doing this will help her, Peeta."

Peeta looks closely at Kurt before slowly sinking into his seat.

"Okay," he says. "I'll do it."

"Attaboy," Haymitch grins. "Now the best time to do it is when Caesar asks you about girls- and he will- so just..."

Katniss may be the new Santana, the important piece of these Games, but as Haymitch's voice fades into the background Kurt can't help but feel that he has helped a small piece of Santana's spirit live on in Peeta, who may be more like her than they thought.

* * *

><p>When Haymitch comments on Katniss's hostility Kurt can't help but disagree. It is at this point that he realises the beast that Haymitch brings out in her; she is certainly more hostile now than he has ever seen her. Once more Kurt is a tribute's best bet in the interview stage.<p>

Eventually, after coaxing her into a million personas, or at least attempting to (Kurt can attest she is in fact a terrible actress), Haymitch gets irritated.

"_Then lie!"_ he yells. _"Make something up!"_

"_I'm not good at lying," _she yells back.

"_Well you'd better learn fast,"_ he responds. _"You've got about as much charm as a dead slug._"

That is going a bit far, even if it is true. Haymitch storms to the window, biting back any further remarks.

"I give up! Kurt, see what you can do with her," he sighs.

Again, Kurt believes Haymitch is trying the wrong tactic. This Katniss is hostile and aloof, sure, but the Katniss he met after her fiasco with the Gamemakers was perhaps more likeable than Peeta. She was real. That is what they need to tap into.

"The key to making people believe what they see is believing it yourself," he tells her gently. "Whichever angle you use, you need to keep the real you in there somewhere."

Katniss looks up and begins to actually listen.

"My angle was cowardice," he continues. "So I spent all my time on camera thinking about how scared I was of the arena to the point that I believed I was that weak myself. You have to give it flair."

The girl is dubious.

"Try gushing," Kurt asserts. "Convince me that you love everything about the Capitol."

To her credit, she does try but fails to make Kurt believe she so much as finds it vaguely interesting.

"No, no, no!" he exclaims dramatically. "Like this:"

He rushes over to her, eyes filled with excitement and confidence.

"Oh, Katniss, darling, I just love that dress you're wearing. I don't suppose you could tell me where I could find one to buy for my mother? It's just that you have the same shade in your eyes as she does and that colour brings them out so well..."

The young man trails off to see both Katniss and Haymitch staring at him in surprise. Haymitch claps slowly.

"Now that was gushing," he mutters. "Maybe I should've used that with him. You, however, cannot gush, sweetheart."

Haymitch has begun again and none of his new angles suit Katniss but Kurt knows she has heard his words because Cocky Katniss has a deep seated pride in her ability for survival, Witty Katniss has a dark, sarcastic humour very typical of Twelve and Mysterious Katniss is reluctant to share her sister with the world. Real Katniss is beginning to shine through.

* * *

><p>"<em>Stay alive,"<em> are Haymitch's last words to the tributes. They are short and to the point but Peeta still seeks out Kurt.

"What about you?" Peeta asks. "Any words of advice?"

Kurt nods. "Everyone has an agenda. Sometimes people aren't what they seem. Being yourself out here might save you but in there it's your biggest weakness. Use that."

* * *

><p>In the end they don't wind up watching the beginning of this Games together, the team. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. Kurt sees both advantages and disadvantages to this. On the one hand, he doesn't have Haymitch getting annoyed at his weakness every two seconds and constantly muttering plans to himself that he is never going to reveal even to his partner in crime. On the other, Kurt has to storm through the entire floor to find and yell at him for keeping him in the dark.<p>

He shakes in anger as he searches for the older mentor; luckily the people he passes mistake it for nerves and fear, as they are prone to. Amazing, really, the power of suggestion.

Eventually, he finds him, watching the Games attentively, alone in his room.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt demands, slamming the door behind him.

"Tell you what, boy?" Haymitch sighs lazily.

"We're meant to be equal partners here, Haymitch!" Kurt exclaims. "I'm sick of you constantly excluding me! What were you thinking? How is getting in with the Careers going to help Peeta? Are you trying to get him killed so that Katniss can win?"

Eventually, Kurt runs out of steam.

"Are you done, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, raising a brow.

When Kurt, out of breath, nods his assent, Haymitch begins to speak.

"You need to be more careful, Kurt," he says seriously. "Your mask has been slipping recently. I didn't tell you for your sake. You are too attached to the boy and your confident attitude is getting you noticed far more than you need. Do I need to remind you what they did to my family?"

"Okay, whatever, thanks for the warning," Kurt sasses back. "But you could still involve me in tactical decisions!"

"Listen, boy," Haymitch says powerfully. "I've been playing this game far longer than you have. Would you tell meek and timid Kurt all your latest plans? Would you value his input? Would other people find it odd if you did? Right now I'm the only thing that stops your disguise from becoming totally transparent. You can never get too comfortable!"

Kurt takes a moment to take in Haymitch's point. He calms down with a jolt as he realises Haymitch's reasons.

"Oh. I..." he stutters.

"Perfect. Keep doing that. Now shut up and go away, I need to go and chat up some sponsors," Haymitch orders.

Defeated, Kurt leaves.

* * *

><p>They happen to be watching it together when the next major surprise comes.<p>

Claudius Templesmith announces the possibility of two winners.

Haymitch mutters, "so that's their game," and they nearly miss what happens next.

Despite all the training and drilling in to Katniss that really she does have to at least pretend to be in love with Peeta, neither Haymitch or Kurt ever really expected the result to be quite so instantaneous or convincing. With Katniss's acting ability it should have been stilted at best.

"_Peeta,"_ she gasps and it is so simple, so desperate and filled with such feeling that she becomes believable.

Kurt chokes on his water in shock. Haymitch merely nods to himself and grinds his teeth as his thinks about the Games the Gamemakers have planned for them.

Haymitch paces the room, keeping one eye trained on the intimate scene between Katniss and Peeta while he barks down his phone.

"No. Don't let them have it yet," he tells the person on the line.

Kurt taps nervously on his chair. The delicate balancing act required to keep using the sponsors and benefitting the tributes from outside the arena has heated up now that they are so far into the competition and Kurt is suddenly glad that Haymitch keeps him so far from the driving seat.

"_No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it,"_ Katniss is saying.

And finally, finally, she is kissing him.

"Yes! That's it, sweetheart," Haymitch yells. "Now. Drop it," he orders down the phone before hanging up.

"At least someone's giving something to work with," he mutters before sinking into a chair and yelling for more liquor.

* * *

><p>For once Haymitch is stuck. He is used to getting what he wants or going in for the extreme option. This time, though, he doesn't have the money to send Peeta the medication he needs. Nor does he have the ability to go and shake some sense into the boy.<p>

It's pretty much certain that the little backpack being shipped to the arena for District Twelve contains the all-important remedy but Peeta is being stubborn.

"Idiot's getting himself killed," Haymitch mutters angrily.

"I thought you wanted Katniss to win," Kurt shrugs bitterly.

"Keep your voice down," Haymitch fires. "I still have to look after the oaf. How are we getting Katniss to that feast?" he demands of Kurt.

"I-I'm sorry. You're talking to m-me?" Kurt asks, feigning timidity.

"Give me an answer, Porcelain, you're getting on my last nerve," Haymitch snaps. "I don't have time for your precious feelings right now."

Maybe it's his use of Santana's old nickname that sets his brain rolling but Kurt suddenly has an idea.

"Peeta won't let Katniss go. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Haymitch glares at Kurt. "Spit it out!" he orders.

"Sleep syrup," Kurt smirks.

* * *

><p>"<em>Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed."<em>

It is the ultimate climax of the Games and Team Twelve watches together in the openness of the District Twelve floor.

Kurt gasps in shock along with Portia and her little Capitol team. He should be more used to this kind of cruelty than he is. He does notice, however, that Cinna just droops his head slightly as though a distant impossible hope has just been shattered and Haymitch barely even bats an eyelid.

Either way it is a District Twelve victory, Kurt attempts to focus on.

It's painful, though, watching these two teenagers, these two kids, who are falling in love face off at the end of a long fight to the death. In many ways, he is glad it didn't come down to this for Brittany and Santana. He is also painfully reminded of the last time it came down to Twelve against Twelve.

He was wrong in his early assessment. He said Katniss was the new Santana and that Peeta was him in many ways. Right now, however, it is not Katniss who plans to die so that Peeta can win. It is not Katniss who deliberately aggravates an old wound so she will bleed to death. That is Peeta.

Then out come the berries. If he'd had a chance to, though, would he have killed himself in the arena? Maybe not then. Maybe not before he knew what would happen to Blaine. Maybe not before the nightmares started. Now the answer is a resounding yes.

Katniss and Peeta are declared joint winners. The entire room stares in shock.

Haymitch swears quietly and then suddenly everyone is on their feet. The Capitol stylists, those who don't understand, begin to cheer. Cinna smiles, though conflict is written all over his face. Haymitch rushes out of the room with Kurt hot on his heels.

The older victor wheels around.

"Stay here," he growls.

"We're in trouble, Haymitch, I get it," Kurt says.

"No!" Haymitch hisses. "Stay out of this, Kurt. Katniss is in trouble. I'm in trouble. You're safe. Let's keep it that way. Don't talk to me. Go back in there and celebrate."

Kurt hesitates, torn. Haymitch shoves him back in the direction they came.

"Go!" he yells as he hotfoots it towards the lifts.

* * *

><p>Back in District Twelve, the Hummel-Hudson-Anderson family also watch. Blaine once more sits on the floor, tuning out the commentary of the rest of the family. Kurt has done what he wanted without knowing it, he realises, for he sees the obvious signs of Kurt's mentoring in both tributes.<p>

Blaine wishes he could thank Kurt. He wishes he could love Kurt again but there is a conflict there. He _does_ love Kurt and he always will but he is always gone. He is always gone and he doesn't see Blaine's pain. He caused this imprisonment, even if it is in the most luxurious palace of District Twelve. And Blaine will always hate him a little for it.

Yet there is Peeta Mellark on his screen and alive. After a few tension-filled minutes, Peeta is announced as a winner of the Hunger Games. He won't be broken like Blaine either for the girl he loves wins right alongside him.

Unwelcome tears of joy spill from Blaine's eyes. "Thank you, Kurt," he whispers.

* * *

><p>Kurt and Portia are not much of a welcoming committee but Peeta soon realises that Katniss is the priority.<p>

"Who am I now?" Peeta asks his mentor quietly. "Who do I need to be to save her?"

Peeta is no idiot. He understands the Capitol too.

"Be you," Kurt tells him. "Be in love with her."

* * *

><p>By the time Kurt gets home, he is exhausted and he hasn't even done anything. Not really. He isn't half as important as Haymitch.<p>

"Blaine?" he calls. "I'm home."

Blaine pokes his head out of the kitchen.

"I suppose you want a medal. Congrats on bringing the brat home," he says bitterly.

"What have you been doing?" Kurt tries to ask pleasantly but there is still a tension between them that won't go away.

Blaine glares. "Not a great deal a person can do while stuck in a house," he mutters before silently rushing up the stairs and slamming his bedroom door.

Kurt sighs before sliding numbly onto the sofa and crying.


	8. Epilogue

**A/N Hi guys. I know I said there was another chapter but I'm going to be honest, I lost the umph in this story when Santana died. Thank you all so much for following this story; it's officially my longest and most followed on the site. Thank you for your reviews. Please enjoy this epilogue. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Hunger Games. **

There are six of them. Six people in the room. Katniss counts them again. Six, yes. Haymitch, Peeta, Johanna, Annie, Beetee, Enobaria. Then she realises what they all have in common. There's no Finnick. No Lyme. No...

Katniss looks straight to Haymitch. "Kurt," she says quietly.

Haymitch shakes his head. Suddenly Katniss feels awful. All that time in District Thirteen, never once sparing more than a passing thought for him.

"He was with me," Peeta tells her, "but not for long. At least, I think so."

That's it. It isn't televised. There's no grand exit. Forgotten and gone. That's it.

* * *

><p>He runs. He runs like his life depends on it. He runs but it doesn't matter. There goes the hovercraft. Silently, in the dead of the night. He's missed it. He's too late.<p>

In the distance he hears the night watchmen's yells. He hears the bullets. He hears them running down the corridors, closer, closer. He slides to the floor and closes his eyes but it doesn't help.

"Midnight. You're late, you're left behind."

"I never meant to see this war through. They'll come for me."

"Kurt, you have to help Peeta win. I know Haymitch won't."

"Kurt, you have to help me help Katniss."

"I'm glad it isn't you again. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Voices. Haymitch, Cinna, Katniss, Peeta. Blaine. Blaine, finally.

Then there are pictures. Cinna's blood smears the walls. Mags is swallowed up. The bombs silently waiting in the Capitol. Santana drives a sword through her chest. Brittany's lifeless body. Blaine. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine.

"Midnight. You're late, you're left behind."

Peacekeepers drag him up. They see Haymitch's empty bed. They see him alone in a corridor at midnight. They see the traitorous stylist, the Mockingjay. They don't see him. They see Twelve. They know the perpetrators.

As he is taken he squeezes his eyelids shut and thinks with all his might. Blaine on a summers day in Twelve. Before he was a Victor. Before he was even a tribute.

"I love you," he whispers.


End file.
